Ragnarok Fenrirsson
by Jiro Uchiha
Summary: When Fenrir breaks free from the Gods' clutches and hides from their searches, what fate will befall his son? Will he be hunted and killed, or will the Wolf's son bite back? Rated M for blood, gore, death, and future sexual content (Re-write from the 2013 Ragnarok Fenrirsson)
1. Son of the Wolf

_**Greetings. Jiro here to Re-write Ragnarok Fenrirsson. Instead of updating it after a whopping 2 years, I decided to take it down and re-write it in my longer, much more detailed writing style. I hope you enjoy this more than before, and appreciate everything. Thanks for all of the love and support, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha**_

 _You truly thought that you knew what transpired in the days of old, during the times of the Vikings? I find that amusing, because you are sorely mistaken. Do you believe the Eddas written and compiled by Snorri Sturlson, a Cross-bearer? Would you believe me if I told you of how King Tutankhamen wrote the legends of the Shinto Gods? Of course not. Please, be seated and relax as I tell you what Truly transpired, starting Nine Hundred and Eighty-Seven years after the death of the might Ymir._

Lo was there cold. A biting cold so powerful that white rain fell every day until it was up to a man's waist. And no matter how powerful this cold was, man went out in this biting white rain that you now call Snow, and he strode long distances to reach rivers that were frozen. And, exhausted from his trek to the river, Man pushed farther, using Axe and Spear to chip at the frozen rivers. And he chipped and chipped, his body burning in the freezing cold as he pulled large blocks of ice from these frozen rivers.

And, if Man was still alive by this point, he would make the long, hard trek back to his home with the ice. And this trek killed many a man from what you now call Hypothermia, known only back then as the Cold Death. And if Man was strong enough to return to his home with this Ice, his family would shower him with affection as they used the ice to cook, bathe, and to drink. However, due to how hard the ice was to retrieve, many opted out of bathing, it being said that you could smell families from miles away, these people finding nourishment more necessary than hygiene.

However, lack of hygiene caused people to become infected and die, making this time very depressing for all. And those who ended their own suffering when their husbands and fathers and sons never returned from the frozen lakes. And Lo were there men with powers of the supernatural and arcane. These men, powerful and envied, were known as Magisters. And these men prayed and chanted to the gods, and summoned power they never would have dreamed of to bestow them with warmth and wealth. This became common knowledge, and people, freezing and desperate, gathered, asking these Magisters to share their blessings with them.

But sadly, that did not happen. Magisters became either too tired to assist, or selfish, craving everything for themselves. And the poor few Magisters who did assist the poor and freezing over-exerted themselves, dieing from using too much magick. This caused the normal, powerless people to grow angry and retaliate, hunting the Magisters like weakened deer. These men were thrust upon them a choice. Use thy magicks to harm the innocent, or submit to their will?

This became too difficult a choice for some, who ended their own misery. This, coupled with the Magisters who were struck down by humans and those who over-exerted themselves to the point of death, caused the Magister race to become nearly extinct, accounting for the modern civilization's lack of magick. But, this story is not about these men. No, infact It's about so much more

And Lo was there an Island, one island overgrown with Heather, known as Lyngvi, and upon this island was Fenrir, the Fen-Dweller, the Fame-Wolf, the Monster of the river Van. He laid upon his side, a sword stuck in his jaws, keeping them open as saliva ran from his mouth at abnormal rate, creating the River Van, or the River of Hope. Fenrir laid still, his body bound by the legendary Gleipnir, a binding made from the sound of a cat's footfall, a woman's beard, a bear's sinew, a fish's breath, a bird's spittle and the roots of a mountain. This magickal, slender ribbon kept the massive wolf bound, as it had for centuries.

And from Gleipnir hung a cord known as Gelgja, a cord that was inserted into a large stone known as Gjoll, and the gods that bound Fenrir slammed Gjoll into the ground with a great rock known as Thviti. However, during the great Fimbulvintr, it was said that Fenrir's bindings would be broken, something that the wolf always looked forward to.

And Lo was there a magickal place, a cave to be specific, known as Gnipahellir, or Gnipa Cave. And in this cave was Garmr, a bloodstained hound that watched over Hel, both the realm and the goddess. And the great monster hound shook, breaking his bindings into pieces, racing from the cave as he howled loudly, the sound of his howl being heard throughout the nine realms.

And as Garmr howled, Gleipnir loosened, and Fenrir shook as he stood upright, snapping the magickal fetter as he bit down and broke the sword that was in his mouth, his energy renewed as he ran from the island, along the path of saliva he left. Fenrir's monstrous footfalls caused mountains to shake as he barreled through the nine realms, reaching Midgard, the wolf having no concept of time.

And he barreled through his realm, which seemed small to him, the wolf trampling though frozen forests and ice covered villages, his time limited. He knew he had little time, the gods likely on his tail as he moved. He was so old he had no idea of his true age, which is likely thousands of years old. And the might Fame-Wolf knew, that if he had even a score of years, that would be much more than he anticipated.

And with irony in his mind, he made it to a village known as Forfid Von, or the village of hope, which was build parallel to the river that flowed from Fenrir's jaws. And unlike the snow covered wastelands he charged through earlier, this village was calm and peace. Small cabins made of wood instead of stone lined the village streets, a small market along the main road closed for the day, the wolf's eyes looking about the whole village. And he stopped, his eyes locked onto an oddly large temple made of stone in the center of the village.

Atop the entrance to this large temple was a stone carving of a wolf's head. Infact, taking another look around the town, every home had some form of wolf related emblem or talisman on it, ranging from simple wolf carvings and runes to the pelts of fallen wolves, the cause of the wolf's death likely natural from their grayed muzzles. And the wolf found the whole ideal of a village based around wolves odd and absurd. Then, he blinked, his ears perking up as he realized something.

The village, a small peaceful thing that had wolf related things about it, was known as Forfid Von, which mean the Village Of Hope. Von, the second word the village's name, comes from Van, the name of the river he drooled while fettered with that accursed blade in his jaws. The village, from it's name and heavy wolf relation, seemed to worship _him_

He was extremely surprised that he could fit in the temple, walking about with room to spare. He expected to find a whole village's populace inside, huddled around a fire for warmth, but instead, he found the exact opposite. Looking about the walls of the temple, he stopped and sat, glancing upwards, noticing that large runes covered the roof of the temple. Before reading, Fenrir wondered how many humans lost their lives trying to create this temple and carve the huge runes atop it.

The runes were expertly carved, and they read: 'The great Wolf is All, and Man is None. To Wolf, Man gives Woman, For Man has nothing else to give Wolf. Lead Man against Giant, for Victory during The End. God is not God, and Gods are not Gods. Wolf above All, Woman is Gift. Pure, New, Empty, Yours.'

 _Fenrir read the runic inscription multiple times, finding it quite odd that the runes were done in such detail, each massive rune containing wolves' heads and the names of the men who chiseled these roof runes from the stone. Fenrir was impressed, his eyes glancing down to the center of the temple, noticing a small poll, only about ten feet in height, noticing that there was something tied to the pole. His eyes narrowed._

He saw a woman, one whose beauty did not go unnoticed by the wolf. She was tied to the pole in the cold temple, left, as if the villagers expecting him to come. How many women perished in this fashion? Tied to a pole by the ankles and wrists with nothing but a mere thin sheet of fabric around her lean waist. _What kind of village ties up woman expecting Godlike wolves to appear and take the women?_ He wondered, questioning the sanity of the Village's leaders.

He laid down to properly look at the woman, his large head likely the same as she was. Her bosom, an exposed pasture of milky white, exposed flesh, was slightly covered by her long, shaggy black hair, Fenrir's sharp vision noticing her cold, erect nipples through her hair. Her hair, something Fenrir kept looking to, covered her shinning Hazel eyes, her eyes containing an emotion that the Wolf couldn't read. He found it odd, but continued to watch her.

Fenrir had never had any actual contact with humans, only seeing them from the forest when he was with his mother, a giantess that made Fenrir shudder. Her breath, which Fenrir saw and smelt, her breath smelling of fresh water, her breath shallow and ragged, Fenrir exhaling as her eyes locked onto him like a hawk. _I may be my Father's son, but I am not skilled in those crafty Magicks that the Gods boast of so openly._ He thought, standing and moving closer to her. He circled the pole she was tied to, curling his massive body to cover the woman, her breath evening as he felt her freezing cold skin.

He noticed that she began to speak, and she spoke in a language that Fenrir didn't recognize, her vocalization coming in quick, fast paced bursts. The wolf grunted, silencing her as he exhaled through his nose. Using one of his few magickal skills, Telepathy, the wolf spoke to her, not wanting to open his jaws and scare her. _I hope this works, The only language I know is the one the gods speak._ He thought to himself, hoping that she understood him so that he could learn more of her situation.

 _What is the problem, human?_ He asked her, her mouth flying about, speaking faster than before, her mind barely forming thoughts that he could read. _I am the Great Wolf's offering_ Her mind said, Fenrir exhaling through his jaws to silence her as he thought about what that meant. _Humans put an emphasis on Virginity, so I can assume that the village would assume that virgins would appease the gods more._ He thought, glancing to the entrance. _Does the village want me to kill this virgin to appease some ritual of theirs?_ He wondered, looking to her.

When he turned his head all the way to her, he noticed something he scolded himself for missing beforehand, the scent of fresh blood.His nostrils flared, the Wolf noticing that he could also faintly smell pheromones. These pheromones were unfamiliar to him by scent, but their purpose was clear by their scent. They were Pheromones that indicated Estrus, or Heat. He inhaled her scent one more, his pupils dilating at the scent, his lions stirring as he lifted his head.

Her breathing became even more ragged as Fenrir's nose pressed against her chest, his tongue lapping at her chest, the girl moaning as he breasts moved up with his tongue, bouncing back down. The scent was enticing, as he had once heard his father tell him it should be. _Why would these humans want me to kill her?_ He wondered, his tongue moving from her face as he stopped to think. _I will not kill this human. I will mate with her._ He thought, his dominant, instinctual mindset taking over.

The villagers arrived next morning to discover the woman asleep laying against Fenrir, the Wolf's face complacent as he slept. The villagers dropped to their knees as they began to praise Fenrir, the sound waking him up. He looked to them lazily, exhaling sharply to quiet them. _Tell me, how many woman have died as my sacrifices?_ He asked, and an elderly woman came up. "None O Mighty Wolf, she was the first. We knew you would be released during the Fimbulvintr, and prepared her for you." she said, the wolf narrowing his eyes.

 _And who chose for her to be the sacrifice?_ He asked, the elderly woman recoiling. "She was taken against her family's wishes, but, she will be returned to her home safely." she said, and Fenrir frowned, the expression on his jaws making the villagers take a step back. _No. She is mine. I will have her for myself. She will live with me._ He said, his instinctual dominance rearing it's head. The elderly woman nodded in agreement, the wolf calming down. _And what is this woman's name?_ He asked, and the Elderly woman exhaled.

"Her name is Ylfa Hildasdottir, she is the daughter of the village Meat Trader and his wife.'" she said, the wolf nodding. _You may take her to her family's home, but she will be returned to me within nine days._ He said, the elderly woman nodding nine times as Ylfa was slowly removed from the being against the Wolf's side, the Wolf exhaling as he watched the villagers depart. _I must use all of my power to protect this woman._ He thought to himself, laying his head back down and falling asleep.

And Lo did nine months pass, Ylfa spending most of her time bedridden, her stomach swollen to the point where the village doctor thought the child might literally burst from her stomach. After the nine days with her family, Fenrir and Ylfa were accepted as the new village leaders, everyone agreeing that nothing was better for the village then to be led by their God and his chosen woman. Fenrir smiled as he looked across the temple to where Ylfa was giving birth, the wet-nurse telling her to give the first push, coming one step closer to birthing their God's child.

She screamed in pain, her nether regions distended beyond an inhuman amount, Fenrir himself grimacing at the pain she must be in. Unable to hand her his hand like most fathers, and unlike his, he thought, the Wolf moved closer, using quiet groans and growls he used to try and sooth Ylfa. _You can do this Elska._ He said to her, her face changing to a smile before she screamed even louder, her belly having been distended beyond normal, the wolf worrying about both his Wife and child.

The wet-nurse's gaze vaulted to look at Ylfa's bright red, sweat coated face. "Push My Lady, the Head is out!" she called, the Wolf seeing a large hairy object exiting his Wife's nether regions, the sight intriguing him as she screamed and pushed, more and more of the child exiting her womb as she became exhausted, falling back near unconscious.

 _STAY AWAKE ELSKA!_ Fenrir boomed telepathically, the woman vaulting back to life as her Husband, and God, spoke to her in a loud, commanding voice, the woman shouting louder then ever before, loud enough to make the entire Village hesitate in shock as she turned purple, her screams silenced as she fell back onto her sweat soaked bedding, panting harder then ever before, barely able to keep conscious. Her eyesight faded as she fell unconscious, her awareness fading. Fenrir frowned as he stood, fearing for his Wife's health, his footsteps slowing as he heard the cries of a newborn child. However, these weren't human cries, they were loud, gravelly shouts from something that was more than human.

The nursemaid held the massive, two and a half foot long child, who was heavy enough that she could barely hold him up, falling to a sitting position with the behemoth child. She was quite perplexed at the child appearance. So much so, that she remained silent as she looked at the large child, who was coated in a thin reddish-brown fur, or was it hair? Regardless, the child had teeth, another oddity, his four canine teeth much larger than normal human teeth. The nursemaid turned, doing her best to present the child to Fenrir. "The Child is a Boy My Lord." she stated, her head bowed in respect. Fenrir's massive jaws stretched into the largest, most frightening proud smile a father Wolf could manage.

 _Care for him, and give him to Ylfa when she awakens._ He commanded, walking from the temple and village as the woman nodded in response. Fenrir looked to the sky, feeling the cold breeze on his fur, inhaling as he bowed his head. _I will protect my son. I will protect my wife. This will not be the end for my family._ He thought, throwing his head back and releasing a massive, thunderous howl that shook the village and reached Asgaard, making all of the gods hesitate as they heard it.

Once awakened, Ylfa took the massive child from the wet-nurse, who was named Dis Vonsdottir, a name that made Ylfa smile. She cradled the child as best she could, exposing one of her breasts as the behemoth latched on and began suckling like a newborn wolf cub. Fenrir walked back in at that time, laying down next to Ylfa. _He is beautiful, Elska._ Fenrir said, his eyes filled with fatherly pride as she opened her mouth, her voice strained badly as she spoke

"He is breathtaking." she said, smiling as she coughed threw the rasp in her voice. "What should we name him?" she asked, and Fenrir blinked, realizing that he had never actually named something. Not even the river that flowed from his jaws, which he learned from a passing squirrel. The child was large, powerful, and wolf-like. He smiled, this was his son. "His name..." Fenrir said, his voice baritone as he spoke aloud, making everyone freeze. "His name shall be Ragnarok Fenrirsson." he declared, the villagers looking in the direction of the temple and praying to the Wolf-God, praying for the health and well being of his son.

Fenrir's lips spread in a great smile as he looked to the sky. _Hati… Skoll… you have a new brother._ He thought, thinking about his two other sons, looking down to Ragnarok. He felt proud as he looked to this new, untainted lifeform, his jaws spreading as he unleashed another great howl. _My time away from my sister's realm is limited. But, Ragnarok's will not be. This, I will make sure of._ He thought, his eyes steeled and lips in a frown as he remained adamant.

Dis laughed as she stood outside of the temple. "Ragnarok Fenrirsson. Death of the Gods and Son of the Fen Dweller" she said, chuckling as she walked about. "However, My Lord was very smart in picking that name, as in Forfid Von's dialect of Norse, his name means God Killing Son of Fenrir." she said, chuckling as she looked back to the temple, nodding as she decided to do everything in her power to keep that child safe. _I will face down Odin himself to protect this child._ She said, hearing a loud shout from the child, making her chuckle.

 _Hope you enjoy lol. It took me a little bit to write this, and I finished it July 8th, but it'll go up after chapters two and three are done XD. But, I do hope you like this version more then the first version, which was only 1.2K words long, which I considered a long chapter 2 years ago lol. Thank you for viewing and I hope you look forward to more. Thanks for all of your love and support, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, One Twisted Fuck Inc._

 _AN: Elska is Icelandic for Love_


	2. Mahkahr the Mysterious

_Jiro here for Chapter two of Ragnarok Fenrirsson's re-do. I hope you enjoy this much more than the original lol, and I thank you for viewing. Thanks for all of your support, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF INC_

 _Ahhh, welcome back. I see the beginning of Ragnarok's life made you crave more. Hunh hunh. Very well. Come, relax and listen to the next part of Ragnarok's tale._

And lo did Ragnarok grow. The wolf smiled as he watched his son grow larger and larger. And by the end of his first year, Fenrir noted that Ragnarok has shed the fuzzy layer of hair he was born with. _Odd that he'd be born with it only to shed it like a winter coat._ He had thought. However, Fenrir smiled at the fact that his son looked like the average mortal, only better, the Wolf added mentally, chuckling. _If he looks mortal, he will be less likely to be hunted, because the gods will only look for Wolves._ He thought happily one day.

 _My wrongdoings, or what the Gods think are my wrongdoings, are mine, and mine alone. Fenrir shall not be punished for my supposed wrongdoing, especially since he would have no idea why he's being targeted._ Fenrir once thought at night, his son laying against his fur. His thoughts traveled to a long time ago, when he was a small pup, and a volva he had encountered. The woman said that he would cause great mischief, a subtle reminder of his Father, and swallow Odin during Ragnarok.

 _Why?_ He had thought, knowing that he would never do such a thing without reason. Fenrir glanced to the boy leaning against his fur and smiled. _It seems I have found my reason. They have done me so much wrong, and for Ragnarok, I would do anything to keep it right.._ He said, opening his massive maw and clamping his jaws shut in a stone shattering slam that made Fenrir toss in his sleep. Fenrir smiled, looking at his son, then to the sky, knowing that the Gods had their eyes on him, making him narrow his eyes and howl.

And The Mighty Odin glared down at Fenrir from his crystal Ball. He rolled his shoulders, his loyal Ravens, Hugnin and Munnin adjusting themselves afterward, the one eyed God angered that they brought news that Fenrir spawned another Member of this accursed family, something that made the God spit.

He cursed loudly, immediately heading off to find his Uncle Mimir. "Mimir Mother's Brother, what do I in this time?" he asked, and the man, who was simply just a severed head, moaned as he opened his dead eyes, looking directly at Odin. "The end of all things will come." he said, confusing Odin. "What does that mean?" he asked, and The head groaned. "Death comes for all things and drags them down to Hel. The world, it still sits. Yggdrasil, It moves not. Beast. Giant. End." the head spoke before falling unconscious and silent. Odin growled. His uncle's vague riddles always irritated him, but what irritated him more that that he, the almighty Odin, was worrying about some Wolf and his mongrel child.

He scoffed. He had slain giants, frost giants, even Ymir, the giant he made Midgard from. And he, the almighty Odin, could have the wolf killed with a single motion or word. And it would be his word that ends the Wolf. Only his, he thought, as he smiled.

Fenrir smiled, as Ragnarok soon learned to walk. _He walks upright. This is a good thing._ The wolf had thought, hoping that his apparent lack of inhuman features would keep him safe from the wrath of the gods by acting as a form of camouflage. His son was strong, something that made Fenrir even more proud, as he should be strong, being the son of a god. His hair was thick, thicker than expected, and red. However, it was not red like the vikingr from the land of Ire, no, 'twas red like the fur of a rare wolf. And in the light, his red hair shone a bright, light, brown color.

Fenrir smiled, as his son was tall, and built for war. And, by his sixth year, he had a great number of friends, as everyone wanted their children to be on Fenrir's good side. Infact, multiple people came up to him and offered their daughters to him for Ragnarok, something the Wolf smiled at, but refused every time. Fenrir exhaled, his mind shifting back to Ragnarok's friends, thinking of one particular friend of his son's that confused him.

This friend, an odd creature named Makahr the Mysterious, always puzzled him. His name, Makahr, was unusual sounding, as it was an attempt at making Mahkah Norse, one that Fenrir found accurate. Mahkah, the Mysterious creature's name, was skraeling, or, native american, for Earth, and, according to the village elder, a well trusted veteran and a man Fenrir trusted, named Thorstein The Thick, the odd man looked like a skraeling as well, making Fenrir wonder where he actually came from.

The man was hard of feature, his features both sharp and chiseled. However, he had the face of a cherub, as his sharp features were somehow also fat and youthful. When he asked Thorstein of him, he said thus: _"Him arms are long, thick like trees and very muscled, however, Skraelings do not have muscle like this, which is odd in itself. Him has no whiskers, no beard, which was something every Norseman had, unlike the Skraeling._ Thorstein had said, and when questioned on the man's odd shape, he spoke thus.

" _Him arms reach him knees. Very long for anyone, Nord or Skraeling. Him chest, it is easily as broad as a Jotun's, along with him thick, powerful legs. However, oddly enough, him feet are very, very small in comparison to the rest of his body. Him is called Mysterious, for Skraeling faced be him, but Norse bodied. And yet, of all of these thing, nothing stumped thee like his height, which makes one think that him might be a Dwerrf."_ Sayeth Thorstein. And when Fenrir gave him the final question, about the man's odd personality, Thorstein spoke thus.

" _In him stony black eyes, holdeth a childish light does he. Him is dim of wit, engaging in literal Child's Play, but yet, when in a smithy, forge-eth like a Dwerrf doth he. Though, in this place called Mahkahrssmithy, holdeth he a great red mineral, of which none have identified. But, we have identified the odd man's best friend. Ragnarok be-eth his best friend. And thus, everything henceforth is the tale of Mahkahr Ragnarokssfriend, whom Ragnarok calleth Floob"_ Thorstein spoke, the wolf exhaling as he listened intently.

Ragnarok walked through Forfid Von, finding nothing to occupy himself. Of the age of Six full years, the boy was young, and ready to have fun and enjoy his youth. He had petitioned the village children to play with he, but all had family matters to attend to. _What family matters does a child have?_ He wondered, shaking his head as he sighed. And this was the reason why he walked through the village streets, bored out of his wits. He heard something clang under his foot, and looked down, seeing a wooden sword, one of the child's playthings. He picked it up in his right hand, grasping it tightly.

Ragnarok wasn't a swordsman for many reasons. First, the boy thought, he wasn't literal nobility, and only nobles normally wielded swords. _Why wield an item that makes you a bigger target?_ He thought, swinging the sword about. And two, the boy thought as he frowned at the weapon, 'twas neither light, nor convenient. Ragnarok, a relative novice with weapons, felt that one could move much, much easier and faster with an axe or hammer. _Although, it is quite a crude toy._ He said, the woodwork and odd design grating at his nerves. Jagged, thinner on one side and with a crooked handle that scraped his palm, he disliked it greatly.

He swung it to the die, discarding it with a scowl. HE wanted a weapon that conveyed his masculinity, like an axe, because only a real, true warrior would willingly get in his foe's face and look him in the eyes before killing him. Swords, to Ragnarok, were too fancy, and, as his father had once said, 'Even if I had thumbs for gripping, I would not use a weapon so… Elf-like'

Ragnarok heard a noise, spinning when he heard a crash. Accompanying the crash was an odd sound, as if someone yelled 'All of my Floob!' as they fell, something that made Ragnarok blink. When Ragnarok looked again, he noticed that the crash came from a body laying on the ground. When the body rolled and began to clutch it's knee, Ragnarok noticed it was Mahkahr the Mysterious, someone his father told him to be wary of, as he was, well… Mysterious. Ragnarok agreed with his father, as the man was said to be twenty winters old, but yet less mature than most children in Forfid Von, something that Ragnarok found weird. He walked over to the large man, confident that he wasn't in danger. "Are you okay?" he asked, watching the man only smile and stand, slapping his knee a few times.

He blinked, looking to Ragnarok and scratching his head before blinking again. "Yup! Floob is Perfect!" he shouted as he flexed his massive arm muscle. Ragnarok blinked, his nostrils flaring, noticing that the large man, who was, oddly, shirtless in the winter, was coated in sweat and reeked of fire and steel, a scent that Ragnarok wasn't completely opposed to.

The man's chest, Ragnarok noticed, was rippling with muscle, even more so than the Village's Berzerker, Bjorn Manslayer. Ragnarok noted that this was a fact that the man was likely proud of, and very rightfully so. And yet, Ragnarok also noted, his belly was round and Jolly like Sweyn, the local fish merchant, a jolly old man. Ragnarok turned his head, noting that he was of Fae-kin, or at least seemed as much, as he looked like a Dwerrf, and yet, Ragnarok was never told of a time when a Dwerrf met a Skraeling. Though he did remember tales, ones he didn't believe of course, that said Leif Erickson was a Dwerrf.

Regardless, Ragnarok shook his head, wondering what to do next. He sighed, deciding that the man couldn't be a danger to many people besides himself. "I'm Ragnarok Fenrirsson. You're Mahkahr, right?" he asked, the man blinking, his stony eyes locking onto the boy as he leaned in, whispering as if telling a secret. "How do you know Floob's name? Are you Floob's imaginary friend?" he asked, and Ragnarok rose a brow, blinking. He shook his head. "Of course not. You're Mahkahr the Mysterious. Everyone in the village knows you." he said, and the man blinked, as if surprised by that fact.

He smiled, baring slightly yellow teeth. "Really!? Floob's famous!?" he asked, seemingly excited by the obvious fact that everyone knew his name. Ragnarok, confused by the man's odd personality, never lowered his brows. He sighed, looking to the man with a puzzled look. "No, it's just that my Father said that Mahkahr the Mysterious has night-black hair that was well cared for, much like the mighty Harald Farhair. And you are the only person in the village with black hair." he said, the obvious making the Dwerrf like man blink.

"Oh. But, they say Floob has pretty hair, right?" he asked endearingly, fluttering his large, thick black lashes, something that, when combined with the small black braids that adorned his face, made him unsettling to Ragnarok to say the least. Ragnarok felt sweat run down his brow, the boy backing up slowly. "I guess." he said. _I gotta change the subject. I don't wanna talk about him._ He said, wondering what he could do to change the subject from Mahkahr and his fame, or lack thereof.

He blinked, realizing that Mahkahr could solve his problems. "Hey, you wanna play with me?" he asked, hoping to break the boredom and keep the subject off the unsettling looking man. He beamed, his yellowing teeth shown off as he nodded. Ragnarok picked up the Wooden Sword he had discarded, Mahkahr smiling as he pulled a huge, thick forging hammer from his belt. Ragnarok frowned. "Hey! That's a hammer! I don't have a real weapon!" he shouted at the large man, waving the wooden sword around to emphasize his point. The man looked at him, puzzled, yet again.

The man's stony eyes blinked, making Ragnarok think that Mahkahr the Dim was a better moniker, as the man was more Dim than Mysterious. He walked over to Ragnarok, pulling another, much small and lighter hammer from his belt. "This Floob's knife hammer. Little weapon, little tools, big blood." he said, chuckling.

Ragnarok grunted, struggling to hold the hammer. _I didn't even mention what way we'd play. This guy hands me a hammer and doesn't even ask If I wanted to play Hide and Seek!_ He thought, holding the hammer as he looked across from him. _It doesn't help that he's older, bigger, stronger and more experienced than me._ He thought, watching the man run forward, swinging the hammer. Ragnarok froze, cursing under his breath as he leaped away from a behemoth swing. The man screamed as he swung, a loud crooning sound that said 'AHHHHH! WITH ALL OF MY FLOOOOOOOB!'

After the loud, irritating scream, the huge man loosed the behemoth hammer in Ragnarok's direction, barely moving to the side as the hammer blew by him. He turned to look at the hammer, his jaw going slack as the hammer slammed into the side of Merchant Sweyn's prized horse, piercing it's flesh. However, the hammer was unfettered, piercing and tearing through the horse's skin, muscle, fat, bone, sinew and straight out the other side with ease, the hammer crashing directly into the side of the Village's town hall. Despite the fact that it was a small building, it was, thankfully, vacant as well.

It slammed into the building, crashing through the frame and stopping. Ragnarok and Mahkahr breathed sighs of relief, happy that nothing too bad happened. Then, Mahkahr smiled, walking over to collect his hammer. However, when he took his first large, heavy step to collect the mighty weapon and tool, the building came crashing to the ground, a large, sudden sound that drove people rushing from their homes, making Ragnarok gulp in fear at how he'd be punished for Mahkahr's wrongdoing.

Ragnarok blinked. _I don't really HAVE to get caught._ He though, turning to Mahkahr and laughing. "I like you Mahkahr, and I think we could be great friends. But, as for right now, I have to go. Until next time." he said, running at top speed away from the scene to avoid any association with it. Mahkahr blinked after him, happy that they could be friends. But then, he blinked as realization hit him like a hammer. "Hey! Stahhhhp! You can't leave Floob alone!" he shouted, the villagers' attention shooting from the destroyed building to Mahkahr himself. They all turned in his direction, making him freeze. He blinked. _Floob is the only person outside._ He thought, his eyes darting about. _Oh my Floob._ He though as they closed in.

One villager, an angry old woman named Anya Steinsdottir, slapped his chest, making him recoil at both the sound and pain. "OW! My boob Floob!" he cried out, stumbling as another villager hit him in the stomach, making him call out. "Ow! My Floob!" he shouted, turning and barreling through the villagers and running beyond them, trying to escape from the angry mob of people as fast as his short legs would carry him, feeling random pains as the villagers struck him and threw things at him.

He panicked, running across the village at top speed. "Floob will not look back." he said, the panic evident in his voice as he repeated the mantra over and over again, doing his best to avoid looking behind him. However, only a few moments later, his curious, child-like personality got to him, and he slowly turned his head, peeking behind him. He froze at what he saw.

He saw the villagers, all gaining on him, and brandishing various farming and gardening tools as weapons. He saw shovels, rakes, pitchforks, and even torches. _They want to BURN my Floob._ He though in horror as he screamed in horror, pushing his legs as hard as he could to speed up. "Oh my Floobing Floob!" He screamed in horror as he exploded through the village limits and into his huge home. The cave he lived in was designed by him, and for him. There was a long, large tunnel, one that lead into a great cavern lit with torches made from metal, oddly enough. And along the walls of this great cavern was his work, ranging from small throwing knives to dual handed claymores.

Floob smiled once he reached his home. He liked forging, and he forged. A lot. Although he didn't think he was very good. He ran into his room, a large, unkempt thing that was connected to the main part of the large cavern. He stayed in the room, for a period of time he couldn't mention, simply for the fact that he didn't know himself. He shook, crazed from the chase. "Oh my Floob!" he shouted, panting as his legs began to throb until they became numb. "Fl-Floob can't…..Floob can't feel Floob's Floob!" he shouted, and began to remember the sight of the massive mob chasing him as he heard people banging on his front door, the pain all but forgotten from his mind.

"Floooooooob!" he screamed, his loud, vulgar sounding shout driving the evil people away from him. He grumbled to himself as he laid back on his makeshift bed, a frown on his face. He fell asleep soon after, his legs still throbbing. And so was the tale of hoe Mahkahr the Mysterious, or Mahkahr the Dim, became friends with Ragnarok Fenrirsson. A friendship that would no doubt be legendary.

 _DONE. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BEFORE READING CHAPTER 3 LOL. AS ALWAYS, I'M ON TWITTER MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, AND YOU CAN FIND MY FACEBOOK AS WELL BY SEARCHING FOR MY NAME. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING, JIRO 'THE GHETTO SHAMAN' UCHIHA, OTF INC._


	3. Cnut the Fool

_Jiro here for chapter three of Ragnarok Fenrirsson V2! I hope u enjoy the re-write and It piques your interest and you get a little hype for Chapters 4-6, which will all come out at once within a month or two from this. I appreciate everything, and appreciate everyone of you, Thanks, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF INC._

And within but a few weeks time, Mahkahr and Ragnarok had become the best of friends. The Wolf's son gave his friend the nickname Floob, after the term he consistently referred to himself with, especially when afraid or in pain. And one day, they were walking through a forest on the northern edge of the village, not too far from Ragnarok's home. Despite the fact that he didn't know what it was, Ragnarok helped his friend search for something that Mahkahr only referred to as 'that shiny stuff'.

And so, the boy and his friend scaled the surprisingly rocky terrain for this mysterious 'shiny stuff'. They eventually came upon a small clearing where Mahkahr stated their objective was. Upon reaching the clearing, Mahkahr gave a yellow toothed grin, smiling as he came face to face with a cave. "Yay! For my Floob!" he cheered happily, seemingly forgetting about Ragnarok as he ran into the cave. Ragnarok frowned, sighing and shaking head before following.

The first thing he noticed was that the cave had been thoroughly explored before, something Ragnarok could tell from the many small torches lining the walls of the cave. _Did Floob just light these, or have they been here? Beca_ _u_ _se if he didn't, I have too many questions to think about._ Ragnarok mused to himself as he followed the torches, reaching a small cavern. Ragnarok blinked at the cavern, finding it odd. Lying in the cavern was a surprising amount of shining steel weapons. Then, he tilted his head, looking at them more intently, noticed crude designs and jagged edges where they didn't belong. He blinked. _These are Floob's failed projects._ He thought, the assumption likely being correct due to the dim-witted man's desire to find it.

He turned to the man, who smiled as he looked about. "Floob comes here to take bad weapons and make them good." he said, Ragnarok noticing the pride in the eyes of his Skraeling looking friend. Floob turned, grabbing a handful of the crude weapons and placed them in a small pouch in his waist, one made of real leather, but had, unsurprisingly enough, thin strips of steel sown in. Making sure none of the weapons fell from the pouch at his side, Floob turned back and exited the cave, Ragnarok taking one last glance at the pile of weapons before following.

Ragnarok stepped outside, smiling as he felt the hot sun beat down on his skin. He looked in the direction of the sun, making sure not to look at the sun directly, feeling the heat across his body. He always held a fondness for the sun, especially when it brought it's signature heat with it. He loved that it seemed to welcome him ever day when he awoke, beating back any and all cold winds and chills in the air. Turning away from the sun and everything it did for him, he looked to Floob. Unfortunately, Ragnarok has walked whilst thinking, and bumped into the massive man's back, grunting as he felt his rear hit the ground. Standing, he noticed that the large man's muscles were clenched. He found it odd, walking over to the man's side.

He glanced up to him, seeing a slightly clenched jaw, something that made Ragnarok tilt his head. He turned to see what was ailing Floob, and noticed that he saw Cnut Sweynsson, the fish merchant's son. Ragnarok has never truly gotten along with the boy, as his soft, almost girlish features made him popular to the point where it irritated him. However, the same effeminate features all the village's woman, bar his mother of course, envied and lusted for, were contorted into an ugly scowl, something that, Ragnarok thought, ironically fit Cnut well. Ragnarok shuddered slightly at his long, thin nose, which was set on his face a bit higher than it should have be.

However, what truly caught Ragnarok's attention was that Cnut held a small knife in his even smaller hands. _He looks ridiculous holding that thing._ Ragnarok thought, watching Cnut carefully. "Y-You killed our prize horse." he said, venom thick in his tone. Floob hummed, blinking. He smiled, baring his teeth. "Yup. Floob sorry." he said, scratching the back of his head. The boy's face reddened slightly, his fingers gripping the knife harder. "Sorry!? Is that all your idiotic self can say!?" he shouted, Mahkahr looking to Ragnarok, who shrugged.

"Do you know how hard it was to raise that beast!? Do you know how much money we shall lose because of this horse's death, you braindead idiot!?" He screamed, completely livid. Ragnarok stepped forward, exhaling calmly. "You know, you could always sell the horse's flesh and make some money off that to buy another horse. And besides, doesn't your family have more horses anyway?" he asked, and Cnut frowned, jabbing the knife in their direction. "No horse in this village can compare to the one that idiot killed! He shall be tried for murder!" he shouted, making Ragnarok blink. He then smirked, something that would remind Fenrir or Ragnarok's grandfather, Loki.

 _Get angry. Come at me with the knife. Go on._ He thought, enjoying how flustered he made the boy. Then he hummed aloud. "But didn't you kill the fox your brother Harald raised? Simply because you said you were hungry?" Ragnarok noted, remembering the day when Cnut's older brother nearly throttled him across the village streets. The statement drove him over the edge, making him surge forward towards Floob, something that interested Ragnarok greatly.

Ragnarok noticed that he was going for Floob's throat, something that Ragnarok found foolish, since Floob's neck muscles would likely shatter any weapon Cnut wielded with ease. However, due to his obvious disadvantage in both size and strength, Cnut turned towards Ragnarok with the blade, a smile spreading across the young boy's face as he stepped to the side, feeling his heart thump in his chest loudly. "Is that the best you've got?" he asked, watching Cnut grind his teeth to the point where they looked visibly flatter, something that made Ragnarok want to pester the boy more.

Cnut glared at him. "You think you're so special because your father is an oversized mutt, don't you!?" he shouted, Ragnarok shrugging silently, making the boy wave the knife at him. "You're wrong! You're nothing but an insolent child!" he shouted, making Ragnarok raise a brow. "Do you really care for that horse that much? Or are you jealous that my father is a god? And how can you call me an insolent child when you are but one winter my elder?" he rambled aloud, his thoughts and speech cut off by a metallic, sweet scent filling his nostrils.

He frowned, looking down to his chest, seeing the cotton shirt, the cotton shirt his mother sowed for him, torn, and stained with blood. Ragnarok's fists clenched as he seethed with anger, Ragnarok taking a single step forward before his anger dissipated when he saw Mahkahr stand behind Cnut, casting a shadow over him. Cnut whirled around in fear, seeing a dark, frightening look on the man's normally child-like features.

"You are lucky my friend is smaller than me, or he would tear you tendon from tendon." he stated, a scowl on his dark skinned features in one of his coherent moments. "I shall say this once, and but once. Leave with your breath and life, or I shall return with a wooden box for your corpse." Mahkahr stated, his dark, brooding aura unsettling Ragnarok, who had never seen this side of the big man. He was child-like, and yet, Ragnarok seemed to forget that he was also a Viking. His thoughts were interrupted by Cnut, who swung the knife in Floob's direction, running at him blindly. Mahkahr sighed, saying a small prayer.

"Spirits of the Forest, Famed Wolf of the Wet Lands, forgive me." he said quietly, watching the boy jump into the air to try and catch Floob off guard. It didn't work. Mahkahr caught him by the shirt, making him drop the knife. He pulled his arm back as he turned to the Village, roaring as he threw the boy through the air towards the village. They watched him fly through the air, the duo running after him, for a reason Ragnarok wasn't entirely sure of. He noted that Cnut was nigh on at the village, the two of them trailing behind. Then, Ragnarok turned to Mahkahr, who gave a mighty scream of 'FLOOOOOOOB!' as he pushed his legs harder to move fasted.

The large man reached the hilltop behind Ragnarok's home and then jumped. Flying over Ragnarok's house, he caught the boy in mid air, his screams of terror nearly deafening. The village watched in horror as Mahkahr slew towards the ground face first, the man closing his eyes and bracing for an impact that never came. He blinked, noticing that Fenrir had caught them and landed silently, dropping Mahkahr safely as he cradled the terrified boy. Relaxing his muscles as he stood on the ground, Mahkahr dropped the boy on his feet.

He smiled, dancing around as he chanted 'Yup! Floob did it, uh-huh, Floob did it!' When Ragnarok reached the village, he wiped the sweat from his brow as he sweatdropped at his friend's embarrassing behavior. "Floob! Stop dancing before I hit you in your Floob!" he yelled to the dancing man, who stopped immediately, looking afraid of the half-empty threat. The great wolf turned his gaze to his son, nostrils flaring. "Would you mind explaining to me why Mahkahr was flying through the air after a villager's son Ragnarok?" he asked, and Ragnarok exhaled, nodding.

Ragnarok gulped nervously. "Well, he came to kill Floob because Floob accidentally killed their prized horse. However, we both goaded him on, and when I reminded him about how he purposely killed his brother's pet fox and received no punishment, he came at Floob. But he turned to me, and I managed to get away. But, after a few choice words, I noticed that I smelt blood, and that he stabbed me without me noticing right…." he trailed off, showing his torn, blood stained shirt. However, there was no wound. Ragnarok swore he was stabbed, because that's how his shirt was torn and his blood got on the shirt. "… here." he finished, Fenrir exhaling sharply.

"Go to your mother and get your shirt tended to." he said, Ragnarok nodding as he ran off towards his house, the wolf turning back to Floob. He motioned his head to the south of the village, where the smith lived. Mahkahr blinked three times, then slowly understood that the wolf wanted him to go home. He smiled, giving a clumsy bow before heading off to forge with his new materials, which he noticed were still in his pouch. The wolf then turned his gaze on Cnut, who was joined by his panicked father.

"You appeared to have injured my son." he began, catching the father and son's attention. "However, while this would normally be punished by death, you will be forgiven because I see no visible wound. Regardless, the charge of attacking another villager unprovoked must not go unpunished." he spoke, his eyes scanning the whole village, as if he wanted Cnut to be an example for everyone. Cnut frowned. "Unprovoked!? He killed our prized horse!" he shouted, and Fenrir snarled, baring his teeth, silencing the child.

"Mahkahr killed the horse, and the villagers chased him for that, and nigh on killed him. That has nothing to do with my son, who was a simple bystander." he stated, and Cnut's father, Sweyn spoke up. "Ragnarok was an accomplice of Mahkahr's. The two are inseparable." he stated, and Fenrir turned to him. "Your punishment for your son's wrongdoings is a horse. And for trying to incriminate my son, a week's profit. I shall come to your home tonight to eat one of your horses." he said, and the fish merchant paled. "Please My Lord, have mercy! We have but two horses, one male and one female. IF you take one, the village shall go without domesticated horses!" he shouted, trying to plead with the Wolf. But the Wolf only glared, his eyes seemingly changing to an angry crimson color.

"Both horses. Your son is next. If you need horses so bad, then go catch one. There are plenty of wild horses nearby." the wolf commanded, acknowledging the fact that they lived in an area with an oddly high population of wild horses. Fenrir turned around, heading home as he saw the Fish Merchant fall silent and hang his head low. The wolf frowned. _If Ragnarok was stabbed, how has the wound vanished within mere minutes? I know no god with any form of power like that. I must look into this further. This may make him a bigger target than before._ The wolf thought, a frown gracing his canid features.

Ragnarok sighed, laying in bed. He thought about what happened after he came home. His shirt was torn and bloody, something his mother scolded him for. However, it was sown, the only difference that is was slightly smaller in the chest. He remembered that he had heard horses screaming in the distance, as if in pain earlier. Ragnarok had an idea of what his father did, seeing as how his mother slowly cared for the wolf, cleaning his teeth of flesh and bone. Then, his thought traveled to Floob.

 _How did he fly through the air like that? By simply screaming and pushing his legs harder? That seems absurd._ He thought, his thoughts then traveling to his friend's personality, and how it did a complete about-face. _Who was that? My friend Floob isn't the same person as the man who threatened Cnut. That man is the real Mahkahr. That is a man I wouldn't want to ever fight seriously._ He thought, his thoughts traveling to Cnut, and how happy Ragnarok was when he angered the boy. _Well, I guess you can't blame me, being Loki's grandson and all._ He thought, closing his eyes as he smiled. He had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a scream of 'OW! MY FLOOBING THUMB FLOOB!' from south in the village, making him smile as he fell asleep.

 _DONE! I HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED THESE THREE CHAPTERS, WHICH COME TO ROUGHLY 2-3K WORDS EACH. I APPRECIATE EVERYTHING, AND LOVE ALL OF YOU. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF INC._


	4. The Command

Two years hath gone by, and Ragnarok and Floob continued getting in constant trouble. The young boy from before, Cnut, had become surprisingly meek. His confidence was drained from him, the sight and feeling of an angry Fenrir staring him down far too much for him to handle, not to mention the intense sight and feeling of the short, stocky smith in a moment of clarity. And lo was Floob was applauded for his heroics in saving the boy, something that made him quite happy, as he could be seen walking past Cnut's home with a large grin at all times. Ragnarok was at his home, learning from his Father, Fenrir.

Fenrir taught him of the land where he was raised. It was a place called Jotunheimr, and it was the land of giants. Fenrir looked to the sky and said that he was a giant as well, because his father and mother were giants. Ragnarok blinked, and asked "But why are you a Wolf Father?" Something that made Fenrir chuckle happily.

"Perhaps it is because my mother is said to be from the Iron Wood, Jarnvidr." he had said, something that made Ragnarok grow both more confused and intrigued at the same time. Fenrir said that giantesses from this forest, which was located east of Midgard, bore troll like giants and giant wolves. Fenrir said that his mother, Angrboda, a giantess also known as The Bringer of Sorrow, gave birth to a normal human sized girl and a serpent as well. Ragnarok questioned this, as a giant wolf's siblings being a normal sized girl and a giant serpent seemed very puzzling to him. Fenrir told his son that the odd phenomenon may be due to the fact that his Father, the God Loki, could change into any shape, so his children may be any shape as well. Then, Ragnarok asked of Floob.

The young Ragnarok had no honest clue what his friend was, be it human, Dwerrf, or something else entirely. Fenrir's huge, canid lips turned downwards, letting Ragnarok know that his father was either angry or confused, the boy silently hoping it was the latter. "I do not know anything of Mahkahr the Mysterious." he said sighing, a great gust of wind coming from his large nostrils. "He is infact a mystery, even to thine self." he said. This made Ragnarok smile. He didn't understand why, but he was happy that his dear friend was a mystery to someone as knowledgeable as a god. "Listen to me Ragnarok. I am about to tell you something very important." Fenrir said, the boy's childish glee replaced with a stoic seriousness as his father's large eyes locked onto him.

"There are two other giant wolves you should know of." he said, and Ragnarok tilted his head, frowning slightly. "They are Hati, the Sun Swallower, and Skoll, the Moon Hound, and they are your brothers." he declared, and Ragnarok's face lit up slightly, the boy happy to discover that he had siblings. However, his happiness faded very quickly, turning into more confusion than anything else. "Father, why do my brothers have such unusual names?" he asked, and Fenrir's face took on a more solemn look as another gust like sigh escaped his massive, cavernous lips. "They were cursed by your grandfather Loki's wife, a goddess by the name of Sigyn, to chase the sun and the moon until the end of the world." he said, and Ragnarok frowned slightly.

Ragnarok squared his shoulders as he looked up at his Father. "How can I free my brothers from this curse?" he asked, and Fenrir smiled, a look that Ragnarok couldn't discern between pride and cunning. "If Sigyn dies, the curse will follow her to Niflheimr, and to Hel, where it will break and free them." he proclaimed, and Ragnarok smiled. "Father, do you know where Sigyn is?" he asked, and Fenrir laughed. "My son, there is much I know, but there is much more I do not." he said, and Ragnarok blinked. He found the statement odd, and, after respectfully leaving the room, he thought of it most of the day, wondering exactly what it meant.

The young Viking was walking south of the village, near a large cave when he began hearing something coming from the cave. As he moved closer to the cave, the same, singular sound got louder as it repeated over and over again. When Ragnarok was at the entrance of the cave, he heard it clear as day. _Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang._ The boy wasn't alarmed by the sound, and instead decided to enter the cave, noticing that the tunnel inside of the cave was a very long one. As he moved on, he noted that there were hammer marks on the walls and roof of the tunnel, signaling that this was a man made, and hand carved, or at least hand hammered, tunnel. As he traversed through the tunnel, the clanging rang out again, always in bouts of nine.

Ragnarok followed the sound of the clanging down the tunnel until he reached a large cavern. Remembering to always stay alert like his father said, Ragnarok scanned the cavern for traps, noticing that the large room was completely bare, Ragnarok marveling at how large this hand carved cavern was. Than, Ragnarok heard the clanging again, counting out another nine rings as he looked forward. He noticed two large, hand made wood doors, likely made out of oak, or at least something that was primarily Oak scented. Glancing to the left door, Ragnarok noticed that it had familiar runes on it, the hastily carved, or at least sloppily carved letters reading out FLOOB. He assumed that this meant that the person who lived, or at least slept, in that room was his friend Floob. Then, the door to the other room began to creak open.

The previously mentioned Mahkahr, also known as Floob, exited the room on the right. Ankh noted that the runes on the right door were likely sloppier than the runes on the left door, as if that were possible. This door read HAMMER, making Ragnarok assumed that the rush of heat he was assaulted with upon Floob's exit and the consistent heat he felt from the door, that this was infact the room he forged in, something that intrigued Ragnarok greatly. He noticed that his friend's attire was seemingly meant for forging, the short, stocky man wearing a simple loin cloth and a sweaty apron. Floob reached for the apron, pulling it off of his large, broad muscled body, the sigh making Ragnarok burst out laughing.

His friend's body was very densely muscled, the almost rocky looking muscle so densely packed in and solid that it would make Thor jealous. However, this intimidatingly muscled physique was offset by his large, round, sweat coated belly, the sight of the large muscles and the big belly far too funny for Ragnarok to remain silent. Mahkahr scowled at Ragnarok, finding his laughing weird and unexpected. He waited for Ragnarok to calm down, the young boy wiping tears from his eyes as he looked to his glistening friend. "What is this place?" he asked, Floob laughing as he bared his teeth, which, Ragnarok noticed to his misfortune, were turning a bold, cheese like orange color, the smile looking more like a block of cheese than a show of teeth.

Slapping his hot, sweaty pectoral muscles, Floob threw his head back and spread his arms wide, Ragnarok holding his breath at the horrific body odor that tried to murder him as Floob spoke. "This is Floob's home! Behold!" he shouted loudly, Ragnarok grunting at how his voice echoed throughout the large cavern. Ragnarok held his nose as he looked at the walls, noticing something he didn't see before. He noticed that various finished pieces of forgery and metalwork hung on the walls, some in places Ragnarok was relatively sure his friend couldn't reach. "Uh, Floob? How did that axe get up there?" he asked, pointing upward to a bearded axe that dangled almost directly overhead. Floob, thankfully, put his large arms down as he looked to the axe, humming as he scratched his chin before shrugging. "Floob don't know."

Ragnarok raised a brow as he watched his friend continue to stare at the axe, seeming even more confused than Ragnarok was. _How does he not know?_ Ragnarok wondered, watching Floob blink as a smile spread across his sweaty features. "Ooh ooh! Floob want to show you something!" he said happily as his long arm began to move, grabbing Ragnarok's arm and pulling him along roughly, Ragnarok being nearly dragged into the flaming hot forging room, the heat so intense Ragnarok nearly began to sweat instantly as he looked around, rolling his shoulder as his friend let him go. He frowned in a lopsided fashion, being sadly unimpressed by how cliché the forgery was, nothing seeming out of place or even of a higher quality.

Then, Ragnarok looked in the one corner, noticing a large pile of some odd, red material. He furrowed his brow, poking Floob in his large belly as he pointed to it. "Hey Floob, what is that stuff?" he asked, and Floob blinked. The large man groaned, dramatically flailing his arms as sweat flew off of him, some of the salty, nasty liquid getting into the active flames, sparking and sizzling as they evaporated. "Floob has no Floobing clue! Floob was hoping you knew!" he shouted, making Ragnarok even more confused. Why would he know what it was? "Nope. Where did you get it?" he asked, and Floob stopped flailing, humming as he scratched his head, pulling some kind of dirt or speck of dirt from his hair before eating it and shaking his head at the taste.

"Uhh… Floob thinks Floob got it from some old dude. He said Floob could have it if Floob gave him a sword. And Floob likes red stuff. This stuff shiny." he said, gawking at the red material. Ragnarok rolled his eyes at how simplistic and forgetful his friend was, leaving the forgery quickly, almost unable to bear the intense heat. Shaking his head as he quivered while walking to get the sweat off, he nearly made it out of the tunnel when he heard Floob shouting for him to wait up. When he stopped, the large man caught up relatively quickly, exhaling as Ragnarok watched in disgust as sweat poured off the man's head, arms, and even his large stomach. "Where are we going?" he asked, and Ragnarok shook his head and shuddered as he continued walking.

"I don't know yet. All I do know is that I want out of this cave. It's way too hot." he said, exiting the cave and inhaling air that was actually fresh and hadn't cycled in and out of his friend's filthy mouth more than once. He looked to the left and right, his breaths long and dramatic to remove all indication of the hot, sweltering cave. Floob looked to him, the wind thankfully blowing in Floob's direction so Ragnarok didn't have to smell him. "What we do now?" Floob asked, and Ragnarok looked at the odd man, who had somehow changed his clothing before exiting the cave with him. Ragnarok shrugged. "Something."

Turing away from the great Mimir's well, Odin scowled again. He made the journey back to Asgaard very quickly, in no mood to take his time and see the sights or even talk to fair maidens. Upon his return, the first thing he thought about doing was ending the massive wolf, who had been free for far too long. He knew that even upon the fastest steed or in the best chariot, it would take at least two winters to travel there, but he knew that is what must be done. He inhaled, calling upon two of his most trusted subordinates and warriors, Vidarr and Freyr. When they arrived, he first looked to his son, Vidarr. The god was stony eyed, his long black hair making him look the part of a son of Odin.

Odin turned to Freyr, the brother of Freyja and Lord of Alfheimr, the only god that the elves respected. Odin assumed that they respected him because of his appearance, his soft facial features and long wavy hair that shone brightly like golden jewels in a hot midday sun something the elves related to and respected, along with Freyr's wisdom. He cast his arm out, his stony eyes glaring at both gods. "I want you to travel to this village known as Forfid Von and kill that mongrel Fenrir. If you can not kill this wolf, do not return to Asgaard. If you attempt to return to Asgaard without killing this wolf, I will kill you myself." he commanded, watching the other gods bow before vanishing from his sight, off to prepare for the long, arduous journey to Forfid Von.

Odin leaned back in this throne, a dastardly smile on his aging face as he ran his fingers through his long beard. Only by his mighty word are things done, and by his word, the wolf shall be hunted and slain like game, and when the halls of Valhalla hear tell of the wolf's death, he shall be all the greater for it. And that would please Odin, for he is the greatest in all of the nine realms.

 _Done! I know it's been quite a while, especially for detail increasing re-writes, but I got caught up in everything else in life and in writing and almost forgot this story completely. Thankfully, I'm on hiatus at the time of writing this, and decided to pump something out because I had the spare time. The original chapter 4 was 998 words long with Author's notes and this, with Authors notes will be 2372 words, so a decent 1300-ish word, or 130% SIZE INCREASE. Also, how'd you like me using a different font for things written in runes? I'm thinking about sticking to that haha. Let me know if you enjoy this. I thank you all for everything, the views, reviews, support and everything. Thank you all, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, One Twisted Fuck Inc._


	5. Despair

_Jiro here for the next chapter of this re-do lol. I do hope you enjoy this, as it's been pretty fun to re-write, and I want you guys to enjoy reading it as much if not more than I enjoy writing it lol. I started out with 1854 words since this had no author's notes, so let's see how many I can push it too with author's notes. Thanks for everything, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF Inc. Word count without Author's notes: 1,854. Word count with Author's notes: 1,944_

 _ **A**_ nd lo had two more winters passed. During this time, Fenrir had taught his son Ragnarok even more. He had taught him of the gods, their names, and so on, although he did not name them all, for the Great Wolf didn't know them all himself, his time bound by Gleipnir likely allowing the gods to increase in number. He had told Ragnarok of Great War, and tales of sorrow, regret and glory. The young boy had absorbed all of this knowledge like a sponge, the chance to learn from his father something he took with an eager heart and open mind. At the moment, many of the village's inhabitants were inside the large temple in the center of the village, praying to Loki. Oddly enough, this village prayed to Loki in the sense that most of their fellow Norsemen prayed to Odin. Although, this long period of worship had bored the young demigod, making him slip through the crowd of people and leave the temple.

Walking to the western edge of the village, he heard something. Straining his hearing, he began to hear a rhythmic clang pattern of nine clangs, followed by a nine second pause. Ragnarok smiled, remembering that this was the signature forging pattern of his friend Mahkar, who he always called Floob. Scratching his head, he began to wonder why his friend had been forging so much for so long in the recent months, and what he was forging. Noticing a familiar shape by the village's outskirts, Ragnarok walked over to his father and greeted him, the wolf casting a glance and a loud exhale in acknowledgment, the boy holding a happy smile on his face.

Ragnarok tilted his head, watching his father simply rest by the village's outskirts, the wind blowing his great coat in the breeze, the massive wolf's coat adding to the overall awe one would feel when seeing him. This made Ragnarok wonder. _If my father is a wolf of immense size, why am I a mere human?_ He thought to himself, pouting as he folded his arms. He thought the fact that his father was a great wolf and he was merely a large human was unfair. Despite the fact that Ragnarok's hair was similar to the awe inspiring coat of his father, the fact that he wasn't even wolf like in the slightest upset him, the boy continuing to think about it as he heard the clanging from Floob's forge and the wind, not even the sound of his own breathing reaching his ears.

And then, Ragnarok squinted his eyes as he moved his head to face the same direction of his father. His eyes registered shapes coming from the east, something that made sense since they were on the west end of the village. The shapes closed in, and Ragnarok noticed that they were the shapes of large men. As he strained his vision to see them with more detail, he noticed that one man had long black hair and a stony face, almost as if he was a trained soldier, unable to do anything without command, the second man being a bit taller, his long, golden hair set around surprisingly soft features for a man of such stature. Ragnarok was broken out of his almost trance like state by the feeling of his father standing, the massive wolf's lips peeling back in a snarl. The wolf's large eyes turned to Ragnarok, his pupils seeming to narrow as he focused onto his on. "Ragnarok, leave now." he commanded, earning a confused, questioning look from his son, who remained still.

He watched as the men advanced forward, the young, confused boy noticing that they seemed to be advancing on his father, and no one else. Ragnarok's eyes widened and his jaw went slightly slack as he saw the two men draw large, shimmering blades, advancing on the massive wolf at a much faster pace, seeming to be even faster than before, Ragnarok almost unable to follow their movements. He watched the stony face man leap into the air, his long black hair blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the ground, the blade aimed at Fenrir's neck as he jabbed forward, the wolf easily sidestepping the man and clamping his behemoth jaws down on his arm, Ragnarok hearing flesh tear and bone shatter as Fenrir tore the man's arm off, the force he swung his head with throwing the man across the village.

The wolf's deep growls continued as he spat the arm off into the distance. To his side, the man with the golden hair advanced upon Fenrir so fast that all Ragnarok could see was a flash of golden hair that flowed much like the wind that Ragnarok felt on his face. Fenrir turned in his direction, opening his massive jaws, the man rolling and sliding around the great wolf, his shimmering blade cutting cleanly across the front left leg of Fenrir, the wolf grunting in pain as crimson blood began to rise to the surface and drip from the wound. The man stood stalwart with a frown, flicking blood from his bright, almost unused blade, the young boy frozen firmly to the spot, unable to move, react, or anything.

And even during all of this chaos, Ragnarok still heard the rhythmic clanging coming from the south, nine clangs coming a ninth of a second after one another before a nine second pause. Ragnarok could feel that the stony faced man was advancing, despite his missing arm amongst any other injuries he had. The man with golden hair continued to tangle with the wolf, unable to advance safely on a beast so large and with such reflexes. The man's face turned down in a frown, his complexion and presence changing as he went for a wild downward slash, his blade cutting across the top of Fenrir's nose. The wolf grunted, his instincts taking over as he swung his slightly injured snout wildly, striking the man in the side. Despite the wounds he received, which Ragnarok could tell were ample from the loud crack of bone he heard, the man landed perfectly upright on his feet with, what seemed to be, relative ease.

Ragnarok was shaken as the man ran at Fenrir's legs despite his injuries, his body still frozen to the spot, despite his mind screaming at him to do _something_. The man leapt into the air, the wolf preparing to defend his long, powerful legs. His blade pointed up, and he slashed the wolf's nose again, the wolf taking a step back in shock. Ragnarok's inability to move remained as he saw his Father curl his lips back, revealing behemoth blood stained teeth, his anger at the wounds he received visible on his face. The man exhaled, his breathing growing more intense as he stood across the battlefield from the wolf. Ragnarok stood transfixed as he noticed that the rhythmic clanging had ceased, signaling that his friend had finished forging whatever it was he had occupying his time.

Ragnarok watched as his father charged the man, the ground shaking with large, powerful tremors as the massive wolf slammed his massive feet on the ground, the young boy able to see the rage in his father's eyes as he charged the man headfirst. The blond man held his blade in front of him, inhaling as he watched the wolf close in quickly. When Fenrir closed in, the man began ducking down slightly and jabbing out, cutting the wolf's front left leg. However, the wolf's massive jaws clamped down on his shoulder, the man's neck only inches from the wolf's jaws as he called out in pain. Frantically, the man pulled a dagger from his waist and jabbed out at the wolf, the blade finding purchase in the wolf's right eye. Fenrir called out in pain, the sound far too baritone to be a yelp of pain, the wolf's shout of pain allowing the man to break free of his clamp like jaws. The man looked to his shoulder, able to see that his shoulder was torn completely asunder, his arm now useless.

The wolf shook his head, the dagger flying out and lodging itself into the ground, the wolf unleashing a loud sound that Ragnarok could only liken to a roar, the look on his face causing the golden haired man to grow weary. Suddenly, the surrounding forest throbbed. The trees seemed to come to life, the entire forest shaking almost as if in response to the wolf's roar. Ragnarok felt the wind blow hard, blowing his hair into his face as leaves were torn from their homes on trees, Ragnarok able to feel something surging through the area, something he could only describes as supernatural, much like magick. This force, which Ragnarok believed to be magick, was immense, much more than Ragnarok thought was possible to be harnessed or even summoned, the force throbbing as it traveled to his father, rolling through the great wolf's body as it reached his jaws, the back of his throat almost lighting up as the magick gathered itself completely in the wolf's jaws, the blond man still wincing at the damage his shoulder received amongst all else.

The wolf roared again, a massive burst of shinning energy releasing from his jaws, a condensed magickal burst of sheer power, the man raising his sword overhead, as if to somehow cut this magickal beam in twain. He failed however, and the beam struck him hard, the intense force of the collision causing trees to become airborne, torn straight from the ground. The man slid back, his feet slowly coming off the ground as his injuries became more than he could handle, being knocked off the ground and struck back even further. The wolf exhaled hard, stumbling from the energy needed to fire such an attack and his injuries, the wolf visibly exhausted. Suddenly, the stony face man came out of seemingly nowhere, neither Ragnarok nor Fenrir smelling his approach despite his still bleeding wound where his arm was torn from. The man slammed his sword into the wolf's chest, sliding between his ribs and into vital organs.

Fenrir bellowed out a bloodcurdling cry of pain as Ragnarok regained his composure, his body springing into action as the man pulled his blade from the wolf's chest, the great hound falling to the ground, Ragnarok leaping at the man with all of his strength, the man able to flee as Ragnarok crashed to the ground. The boy whirled around, running over to his father with a cry of distress.

Ragnarok dropped to his knees, tears forming in his eyes as he could somehow _feel_ the life fading from his father. Suddenly, his body lit up with a tingling sensation, the boy turning to the dying wolf. "I have given you knowledge of the gods and their mighty weapons. Use this knowledge to your advantage, and avenge me." he said, his eye seeming to grow dimmer as he coughed up blood. The young boy shook his head in shook, fear and disbelief. "You can't die. You just can't! You're a god!" he shouted, anguish filling his very soul as the wolf's bleeding lips curled into a smile."Everything shall be alright My Son. All things one day perish. And what does not perish decides when everything else does." the wolf stated, a loud exhale making Ragnarok grow even more anguished as tears fell from his eyes.

The wolf closed his eyes, praying that his sister, Hel, would receive his soul and take good care of him. He looked to his son, letting out a grunt, the boy turning to look the wolf in his remaining eye. "Ragnarok, please, listen to me. You must avenge me, and above all else, free the hounds chasing Sol and Mani. They will be great allies of yours." he said, Ragnarok nodding eagerly, the boy sobbing hard as he found it hard to control his emotions. The wolf smiled one last time. "I am proud of you my son. Never forget that." he said, slowly closing his eye as he gave out a single sigh, the life completely fading from his body.

Ragnarok froze momentarily, the boy's anguish taking over as he threw his head back, unleashing a behemoth, great wail that was heard by all of the Nine Realms, including his Aunt, the Queen of Hel. Upon hearing this earth shattering cry, the villagers rushed from the temple, many of them falling crestfallen to the ground at the sight of their god, defeated and lifeless on the ground, none noticing the large, blond man rise to his feet and glare in Ragnarok's direction, the boy standing slowly and turning to the man, his anger getting the best of him. " _ **I will tear you to pieces.**_ " Ragnarok seethed, the man scoffing as he rolled his good shoulder.

"I am Freyr, Lord of Alfheimr! None may harm or threaten me without consequences!" he shouted proudly and boastfully, charging the boy, who's body tensed as his muscles began to roll under his skin. However, before either of them could clash or attack the other, a monstrous bellow rang out, the sound more savage than a Berserker warrior or a rabid animal. Mahkahr exploded through the crowd, his massive forging hammer drawn. With the fluidity and swiftness of a great dancer, Floob spun, the sweat flying off of him in hot, sweaty beads as his broad frame turned in a circle, his arm coming back and teeth gritting hard as his muscles visibly moved under the skin, the hammer coming up and somehow catching the god dead in the face, the force knocking his body back as his entire skull exploded out of the back of his head, bone fragments scattering across the ground.

Ragnarok's anger dissipated into shock as his jaw went slack, the sight of such a fluid spin and such a staggeringly powerful strike to one known as a god far beyond Ragnarok's expectations or comprehension. The dwarf looking man stood over the dead, defeated Lord of Alfheimr, throwing his arm into the air, panting. He roared, a great, powerful cry of 'FLOOOOOOOOOB!', the sight of a hammer wielding warrior standing over the body of an enemy causing the village to erupt in momentary cheers of happiness, the people very happy that the god was infact dead.

And Lo was there a great funeral held for the wolf, filled with much sorrow, agony and grief. Many people cast themselves upon the great wolf's body, overtaken by hysteric spouts of grief so great that some people had to be restrained or incapacitated with force, something that brought even more sadness upon the village. And then they had buried the great wolf in a massive grave that took many hours and much manpower to dig, covering him over and planting flowers and trees on his grave so that the land and the new plants may nourish themselves with his great flesh as time passed on. Afterward, Ragnarok merely wandered the village aimlessly, his anguish making him oblivious to everything, including the great force watching him intently.

Loki cursed, unhappy with the current situation as he watched his grandson walk like a cursed soul with no destination, cursed to merely wander. He grit his teeth as he growled, knowing full well that his blood brother had taken things too far, something that, as _Loki_ , he knew much about. He looked down to the handle in his hand, and frowned. The handle was made of the pinnacle of materials, the wood being made directly from Yggdrasil's bark, and the leather that wrapped the handle being made from perfectly crafted leather made from the hide of Tannjostnr, one of Thor's goats. The god shook his head, heading off to see the fellow known as Mahkar the Mysterious, for obvious reasons. Taking his previous guise of an elderly man, he commissioned a dagger from the man to see if he was truly up to the task of working with this handle that could only be described as great.

When the smith returned in a surprisingly quick fashion, he handed the disguised god one of the most beautiful and well crafted blades he had ever seen, the wooden handle being carved with runes of gold, the shimmering, _glistening_ blade still very sturdy and sharp even with the center having bronze runes forged into it, something that Loki was very impressed with. Looking at the craftsmanship of the amazing blade, he wondered exactly where the man learned to forge like this, as the only beings with forging skills of any caliber similar to Mahkahr's were the dwarves of the Svartalfheimr Realm. And Loki could tell with relative ease that this man was no dark dwerrf. Deciding that the man had earned the right, nay, the _privilege,_ to forge with this great handle, he had traded the man the handle for a mere axe he was forging, the man more than eager to try to make an axehead from the red mineral, something the he had been trying to do for an entire year almost non stop, and to forge the new axehead to this handle, which he could tell is of the highest quality.

Loki smiled, knowing that he had enchanted the handle to fuse to the red axehead with ease, the shapeshifter eager to see a weapon that he believed to be of the highest caliber in the Nine Realms. Whilst he waited for this weapon to be completed, he went to find Ragnarok, the boy having traveled to the end of the village, his anguish fading in return for anger, the boy chastising himself for not helping, even if he knew that he was far too young or weak to do anything. Before the god could shift his form and speak to the young boy, he noticed that another figure walked up behind him, the figure of a young boy known as Cnut the Cowardly, a boy that Loki knew was no coward. He was nothing but trouble, his name deceiving many people of the fact that he was almost as much of a trickster as Loki himself. He watched the interaction between the two boys with an intense focus and a slight frown on his face.

Back in Asgaard, Odin smiled happily and proudly to himself. True, Alfheimr lost the Vanir god, but not only had the wolf been slain at his mighty behest, his son Vidarr had returned, despite a few injuries. Using his great magick, Odin regenerated the entire missing arm before congratulating his son. His thoughts traveled sparsely to the boy who stood by Fenrir's side at his death, believing and knowing that the boy would likely want revenge as time went on. However, there was something Odin couldn't put his great finger on, and it was the boy's identity. He had seen the boy before, and yet, he, the mightiest and wisest wisdom god, forgot who the boy actually was. Although, Odin knew it didn't matter, for the boy was a mere mortal. The god shrugged it off, figuring that the boy's mortal status invalidated him as a threat. After all, what harm could he truthfully do?

Back at the forest outskirts at the northern end of the village, Loki watched with a frown as Cnut taunted Ragnarok, who had at least turned to face the boy. "HA! I was right! You're father was no great god! How could he be!? A great God would not have been discarded like a horse with a broken leg!" He shouted, his boastful laughs not registering to Ragnarok, who's eyes were firmly locked on the ground, Loki able to almost see the shame and shock that prevented Ragnarok from retorting. The boy folded his arms, a huge smile on his face. "At least my father still draws breath!" he continued, taunting Ragnarok further, the shock slowly fading and turning into a slow, seething anger. "That oversized mutt you call a father was nothing more than a parlor trick to those men! And you have a nerve to be proud to be his son! We should call you Ragnarok the Helpless!" he jived, a single vein rising to the surface in Ragnarok's skull.

"And as for your mother, she was an idiot for being taken by a dog! A _dog!_ " He shouted, Ragnarok's clenched fists and grit teeth beginning to quiver. Loki was intrigued at the situation. _His self-restraint is almost painfully impressive._ The god thought, watching as Ragnarok's grit teeth began to open, a single, gravelly breath escaping his lips. " _ **Be Quiet.**_ " The boy heard in a barely audible tone, his laughing ceasing as a huge grin spread over his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Do you want me to get your father to comfort you? Oh wait, I can't because he's dead! AHAHA! And it's all your fault!" the boy wailed, laughing as he nearly doubled over laughing, Ragnarok's head finally breaking away from the ground to reach Cnut's face, the boy freezing solid at the sight.

Ragnarok's teeth were elongated, almost appearing too large for his mouth, his eyes having grown larger, his pupils turning into slits that belied a deep seated rage, his body sprouting small red hairs as his massive teeth opened again. " _ **I said Be Quiet!"**_ He shouted, the sound more akin to a roar as the grass at Cnut's feet was blown back, the boy beginning to slide back slowly, one step at a time as he began to back up, hearing a popping sound, a loud growl emitting from deep in his throat as the rest of his body began to contort. It cracked, stretched, molded, transforming and shifting into something otherworldly, the boy running in hysteric fear into the forest as Ragnarok continued to change, his body growing as the hair continued to sprout across his body like flowers in the spring.

And as this massive change happened, his senses increased, his longer nose, identical to the snout of a wolf, allowing him to smell the fear coming from the boy known as Cnut the Cowardly, Ragnarok's new height of eight feet tall allowing him to be a much more intimidating force, the boy looking to his massive hands, his short nails having morphed into long, black claws, the boy feeling a tail wag about from his tailbone, the boy able to feel the power that coursed through his blood, his veins, the red fur he saw across his arms, chest and legs identical to his Father's, the boy feeling a sense of happiness and pride as he unleashed a loud roar before setting off after Cnut.

Loki was quite enthralled at the sight of the transformation, thoroughly impressed at the boy's new appearance. A perfect combination between wolf and man, the shapeshifting god was very impressed with how well the transformation went despite the fact that it was Ragnarok's first transformation. Much like the Ulfheðnar, berserkers who chose to wear wolf pelts over the more common bear pelt when rushing into battle headlong, he had the body of a man with the head of a wolf. His golden eyes gleamed in the shaded forest, his eyes locked in Cnut's direction. Despite the fact that he was infact a bipedal creature, Loki noticed that the boy ran on all fours, using his long, powerful arms much akin to a wolf's forelegs, pulling his weight forward while his back legs kept him stable and pushed him along.

He was upon the boy within mere moments, his speed far beyond what the eye could see or follow. Using his behemoth hands, he grasped the boy by the shoulders, tossing him into the air as the fear became consuming, the boy's throaty screams ringing out nonstop as Ragnarok caught him and dropped him to the ground, the boy sliding away slowly as he watched the wolf stalk closer to him slowly, his massive teeth gleaming in the dark light that shone through the large trees, the boy's body beginning to seize up, his fear far too intense for him to continue moving. He climbed over the boy, his slobbering jaws and curled back lips mere inches away from his pale face, the boy's breathing extremely ragged, the wolfman able to feel his heart throbbing in his chest, his muscles tensed up to the point of pain, his adrenaline beginning to die down.

He opened his mouth, Cnut's heart somehow throbbing even harder as he saw the dark, cavernous maw that was before him before the wolf turned, clamping his jaws down upon the boy's left arm. Cnut wailed, a loud, instant shriek of pain and despair as the wolf began to pull his arm off slowly, the sight of his tendons and bones being pulled out of place beginning to grow too much, his voice escaping him as the wolf tilted his head back. And the wolf roared, a deep, bellowing sound that petrified Cnut, his voice too far gone to call for any form of help as he saw the massive maw open inches away from him, his torn, crushed arm sitting in pieces still on the wolf's tongue.

The boy's mind was beyond numb, unable to do anything as he ceased thinking, his heart simply seizing up and stopping as he felt his body go limp, the wolf standing over his lifeless body and looking to the heavens as the pieces of the boy's arm slid down his throat. He dove back down, clamping his jaws on the boy's lifeless head and tearing it off, his massive jaws clamping down hard as his skull shattered and eyes exploded, the taste of raw flesh being ground to mush on his tongue somehow satisfying as he roared again, fragments of brain matter and skull shards flying about as he looked to the heavens once more, his muscles clenching as his chest heaved and he began to roar as loud as he could.

" _ **DOTH THOU HEARETH THEE, ODIN!? FOR IF THOU CAN, KNOW THAT I WILL NOT STOP MY GREAT HUNT UNTIL EVERY SINGLE BEING THAT CALLS THEMSELF A GOD IS DEAD! YOU AND YOUR ILK WILL PERISH AT MY HANDS, AND I SHALL FEAST UPON THINE FLESH FOR THE WRONG THOU HATH WROUGHT UPON THEE. FOR I AM THE SON OF THE FEN DWELLER, RAGNAROK FENRIRSSON, AND LIKE THE NAME MY FATHER BESTOWED ON ME, I SHALL BE YOUR UNDOING, AND THE DEATH OF THE G**_ _ **O**_ _ **DS!"**_ The boy bellowed as his body began to contort and return to it's normal, original shape.

Deep down, Loki had a feeling that this would happen. His hunch was that no child of a god could come out a mere mortal, be they the child of Forseti, Loki himself, or even one of Loki's children, like Fenrir. But, a smile spread over the features of the tricky god. He knew that he would help his grandson kill the gods. It would be the sweetest feeling to watch one of his own take down those that made his life so difficult and ridiculed him at every turn. The god turned and left, off to attend the funeral of Freyr, the Lord of Alfheimr. But on his travels, he thought of what would come to pass. He knew that the boy would spend decades, nay, centuries, Loki assumed, tilting his head. Nay, the boy would not spend centuries, nor millenia hunting the gods down. The boy would devote his life to killing the gods, even if it took him all of eternity. Loki smiled at the thought, his shoulders jumping as he laughed to himself. It would be quite the spectacle.

 _Finished! This was something lol. I expanded on a few scenes that only really O.G. fans of mine will notice. The Cnut scene at the end was heavily worked on though. I wanted to give it a slightly horror-ish feel, which you guys can let me know how I did. Not really sure how you can write horror except by putting intense detail on gore and such ahaa. Anywho, I do hope you enjoyed this and look forward to Chapter 6, which you SHOULD be able to read right now, since I post this in 3 chapter bursts lol. Thanks for everything, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha. Word Count without author's notes: 4,619. Word count WITH Author's notes: 4835. Total increase: +2,762 words, approx. 150% increase._


	6. The Coming Storm

_Hello everyone, Jiro here again! I do appreciate it if you've read this, as not many people have lol. I hope that maybe a couple of you will have read the original Ragnarok, as it would be pretty cool if people could actually see the improvements that were made lol. Anywho, I hope you enjoy, and please be patient, as chapters 7-9 will take alot of time, seven especially. Thanks for everything, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman Uchiha, OTF Inc. Word Count 1318. Word Count without Author's notes 1231_

The Trickster God stood amongst everyone else with his head bowed. He was quite displeased, and he wasn't completely sure why Freyr's funeral was, as expected, a very grand arrangement consisting of many tales of the god, large buffets of food that Loki believed wouldn't be finished even with all of the gods present, and more mead than Loki honestly believed existed, much less the amount he assumed was in his blood brother's possession. His mind traveled to his thoughts as tales of the god continued to be told as he was spoke of in the highest fashion, the shape shifter being the only one that didn't speak so highly of the fallen Lord of Alfheimr.

Inside, Loki was smiling at other thoughts he had. He knew what his grandson was. How could he not? He was Loki, he knew almost everything. He knew all of Ragnarok. His thoughts continued to drift to how Ragnarok had killed the boy, the relatively gruesome scene still impressing the god right now. With how long he'd been watching the boy, which, Loki knew, was much longer than Odin had been watching things. For Loki was an old man, and very tired. Tired of the constant antics of all of his fellow Gods, and simply tired of them as fellows and individuals. He seeked to rule Asgaard and simply relax, perhaps taking his blood brother's role as 'Allfather' after he took control. Although, he knew that with the help of his grandson, it was very possible.

Holding in a laugh, Loki heard someone mention vengeance, his ears and attention breaking away from their deaf state due to his trance and focusing intently on the situation. "Forsooth, who shalt taketh revenge upon Freyr's murderer!?" Odin shouted, the loud, commanding question somehow causing Loki to smile. However, his smile faded when his nephew, Thor stood. He knew that the God, who had begun to declare his divine lineage, was dense, but strong enough to stop anyone from questioning his ego or volunteering for the same things he did. "Thou Shall! I, Thor Odinsson of Buri's Blood shall arm myself with my weapons and decisively defeat the men responsible for our brother Freyr's death!" he shouted proudly, Loki noticing the egotistical smile that crossed Odin's face very quickly. "We know not of our enemy's full potential, nor of how many, if any, allies they have, or who or what these allies may or may not be. You may take nine Valkyrie for you plus one more for good measure. With the power of you and nine Valkyrie plus one more, you shall easily be able to defeat the enemy at hand." Odin said, making Loki nervous, the shape shifter not noticing Thor depart to arm himself immediately.

And Lo did Thor choose Eight mighty Valkyrie, an elite group of warriors that were as dangerous as they were alluring. But Thor could choose nine plus one more, and the final pair of Valkyrie he chose were much closer to his own hearth. He had chosen his wife, the mighty Earth Goddess Sif, who had agreed that she would join her great husband in the efforts to avenge their fair haired friend and comrade. And the final Valkyrie he chose was known as Thrud Thorsdottir, the God's own child. Although, Thor found it odd that the Valkyrie would refer to herself as Gundala instead, but her lack of pride in her Gods given name was nothing important to the mighty Thor, who ventured out to partake in a great battle that would give him even more fame and glory.

Ragnarok frowned, slightly agitated by how hard the village had taken the young Cnut's death. They had said that he had the makings of a great King, something that made Ragnarok simply scoff without remorse, finding the idea that the cowardly young child could rule over an entire house let alone a great country or empire a foolish idea at best. As Ragnarok left his current dwelling, which was his friend Floob's cave, the odd man letting him use the cave while he went on various errands, the thought of his friend doing something as simple as shopping hard to comprehend with his friend's attitude, he headed towards the village. He noticed as he traveled that his nose picked up something odd. What his nose picked up what food that was cooking for far too long. And as he reached the village, the smell only grew stronger.

He found not a soul in the village, the eerie silence making him wonder exactly what happened. Part of him wondered why he cared, but as he saw food burning on still active flames, and doors of various houses left ajar, he began to wonder if his Mother was home. Heading to his home, he opened the door, calling out to his Mother to let her know that he was home, the boy sitting down and waiting for her to appear, his nose oddly not picking up her scent. However, before he could continue to grow either confused, worried, or both, he smelled burnt cinnamon and sweat approaching, an odd combination that was all too familiar.

Floob promptly broke in, seeming to be in quite the rush, his shove of the door cracking the frame and sending it tumbling to the side as the man panted with his hands on his knees, reaching up before his hand fell back down, sweat pouring from his brow. He managed, a small moment later, to point outside towards the temple. "Floob, your mom… Temple… Odin… Sacrifice." he said, Ragnarok's instincts triggering as his body rose in a fluid motion as he shoved past the panting man and headed towards the temple, his body propelling him to move faster as the forgotten smith caught his breath and burst forth like a mighty gale, catching up to Ragnarok as he neared the temple, the tense muscle on Ragnarok's body even visible to Floob as he kicked in the door, his heart skipping a beat as his mind processed things at an ever increasing rate.

His mother was restrained to an alter as the village priest, a _skald_ by the name of Volva, chanted with a dagger above his head, screaming for the gods to forgive them for everything they've done wrong, saying that they will offer the bride of Fenrir to them as a tribute, Ragnarok's emotions triggering his body as he felt a great Rage take over his body, his flesh cracking and tearing as it stretched, his bones shattering and reforming in a longer, thicker, stronger form as his mind shifted to a single thought; Save his Mother.

Ragnarok shouted, a sound that came off more akin to a roar as he swung his mighty right arm, his claws finding purchase on the face, throat and chest of a villager as long, bright red claw marks were left on his flesh, some of the wounds being down to the bone, the man falling down and beginning to bleed out, Ragnarok noticing from the clang that followed the collapse of the man's body that all of the villagers were infact armed, something that didn't fully register to him, partially because it did not truly mattered.

And Ragnarok sought to prove this fleeting thought, bursting through the crowd with the utmost fury, wild, broad swings of his clawed arms tearing down villagers, a trail of blood following his body as he maneuvered through the villagers, the thought that these were the same villagers he grew up around and one time sought to protect a long forgotten thought in the recesses of his mind.

Joining his enraged friend, Floob too began unleashing his fury upon the villagers that he once trusted. Raising his mighty hammer above his head, he came down with a great war cry, the hammer colliding with the skull of a local farmer, the force of the blow so great that the man's head exploded on contact, the residual force causing his broken body to crumple to the ground. Fueled by his first kill, Floob bared his clenched teeth, throwing his arms up as his muscles began to flex, revealing pulsating veins thicker than a man's arm as he spun back into action, his massive veins pumping blood to his muscled arms, which traveled through the air as he swung his arm in an underhanded fashion, his great hammer colliding with the chest of another villager and sending them flying as their body literally splatted against the roof before somehow sticking to the roof as another overhanded swing sent a headless body crumpling to the ground.

Hearing a loud shout, Floob grunted as he fell forward to his knees, a pitchfork buried in his back. Glancing behind him, his thought process was cut off by something shiny that came at him from the front, seeing Sweyn, Cnut's father brandishing a broadsword overhead. Glancing to the intricate bladework the weapon was forged with, the man instantly recognizing that the blade that came at him was forged by he himself. Floob narrowed his eyes at the sight, rising up and punching the man in the chest and sending him flying back as he lifted his arms and bent his knees. With a great, guttural groan, Floob ducked down and nearly rolled into a ball, the great contortion of his muscles causing the pitchfork in his back to remove itself from his flesh as Floob stood with a great sigh, turning to the villager who stabbed him and swinging his hammer in a broad arc, the man's head coming clean off.

His strength completely renewed, Floob continued to tear through the villagers like a mighty gale, their bodies laying across the village temple broken, appearing to look like brown leaves blown by the wind. Feeling more pain in his back, Mahkahr turned to see that Sweyn had survived and managed to plant a dagger in his back. The man panted, broadsword in hand, realizing that the temple had gone silent, all of his fellow villagers laying across the temple like a flipped over basket of cherries. He looked to Ragnarok, who stood in his mortifying half man, half wolf form with the limp, bleeding upper body of Volva hanging from his jaws, the man's eyes rolled up and mouth ajar as his arms dangled uselessly, his chest being torn and flattened between the massive teeth that were wrapped around his torn body.

Enraged by the man's wrongdoings, which included attack him twice and brandishing one of his own weapons against him, Floob inhaled. Throwing his arms out to the side, Floob clenched his fists and unleashed a great cry. And as his great cry rolled out of his mighty chest, the temple began to shake, the rocks on the ceiling cracking as the few bodies that were stuck to the ceiling began to fall down and collapse with sickening squelches. The very metal of the sword began to quiver at it's creator's anger, Sweyn able to hear his bones quivering as the eyes of the priest in Ragnarok's jaws exploded, the man's fear and instincts driving him to attack Floob with the blade, a wide swing coming directly for his shoulder.

However, this was a bad idea. With another gravelly grunt of epic proportion, Floob tensed the muscles in his body as the sword struck his shoulder, Sweyn's skin going pale and his hope fading instantaneously as the steel _shattered_ against Floob's shoulder, the shock of the attack's force making him drop the handle of the blade as he took a step back in petrified horror. Floob's muscles rolled yet again, his hand pulling back as he threw a mighty right punch, his hand slamming into Sweyn's face with an intense force that sent him flying. Ragnarok spit out the man in his jaws, his focus not on the man's mangled corpse as he watched his friend leaped into the air with the grace of an elvish dancer, bending his legs until he could place his feet together, his arms up in a wide arc as he tilted his hands down, his airborne pose made all the more impressive by his trajectory, which allowed him to land directly on Sweyn's chest.

Sweyn's chest cracked and began to cave as he opened his mouth to do something. Scream, exhale, spit out blood, surrender, _something._ But alas, he did not have this chance, for Floob's fist, likely larger than Sweyn's own skull, came down on his jaw, the force of a single great punch shattering his jaw and reducing it nearly to powder as Sweyn's neck snapped, his jaw and throat crushed instantly as the ground beneath him cracked and his life faded. But Floob's rage was too great for him to realize that the man's life had faded, for he continued his assault with a second blow, and a third as Ragnarok headed over to him, his transformation still not faded.

Six blows later, Ragnarok reached his friend, grabbing his arm and pulling him off of the man's crushed body, Floob's anger slowly fading as he loosed nine side fisted hammer shots into almost nothingness, the man's skull far too destroyed to resemble anything but a pile of crumbled mush, Ragnarok able to see that the man's skull had less remaining mass and solidity than half eaten mashed potatoes. As Floob's rage faded, he panted, glancing from Sweyn to Ragnarok, who had somehow also removed the dagger from his back. Discarding the dagger, Ragnarok smiled to his friend, giving him a thumbs up as he ushered his friend and mother out of the temple, the woman completely unconscious in Ragnarok's arms. "She okay?" Floob asked as they traveled to his cave, Ragnarok nodding. "She seemed weak and shaken up, but she shall be alright." he said with a smile, happy that his mother was alright. Floob smiled as they neared his cave, where he noticed that the woman's shoulder was injured.

Upon making it to the cave, Floob instructed Ragnarok to wait for him to return as he left the cave and traveled into the forest nearby. Traveling deep into the forest, Floob came to a small tree that had seemingly been cut down. It was quite broad, seeming almost like an undersized house, the top of the fallen tree only slightly taller than the smith himself. Noticing the door on the tree, the man knocked on the door nine times, hoping that the person who called the house home was infact there, his anxious eyes watching the door closely as the nob turned and the door opened, the inhabitant answering in full garb, showing that he was at the least busy recently.

Floob's friend always dressed weird to him, wearing the furs of a large rabbit around his small, yet barrel shaped chest, dyed blue with the berries that came from the tree he lived in before turning it into his home. His shoes and pants were made of fine leather, the belt that kept his pants up being made out of deer sinew, Floob's eyes glancing to the man's hat, which was large, red and pointy, grabbing Floob's attention because it nearly glimmered in the sun's bright light. "Help Floob! Friend mom, heal!" he shouted at the Gnome, hoping that he would aid him. The man, who was three feet tall, folded his arms as he frowned, looking the broad man in the eyes before sighing, gesturing for the smith to escort him to were his 'Friend Mom' was.

Upon returning to the cave, Ragnarok smiled at his friend before his smile turned into a slightly confused frown at he sight of the even shorter man with him, his puzzled face remaining as he looked back to his friend and pointed at the man. "Is that a gnome?" he asked, unsure why his friend would feel that a gnome would be of use to them. Said gnome cleared his throat, sighing as he grabbed Ragnarok's attention. "I am a healer. Mahkahr asked me to heal someone that I am assuming is your mother, since no one else would be foolish enough to call this oaf a friend." he said, glancing to the large man as Ragnarok smiled and nodded. "I thank you for your assistance. My name is Ragnarok Fenrirsson." he said with a respectful nod, the Gnome grunting in return. "My name is Gharzvorgr the Grower." he said, tipping his large, pointed hat in Ragnarok's direction.

Glancing to Ragnarok's mother, he noticed the wound on her shoulder before assessing to himself how he would heal it. "Gharzvorgr, would you mind keeping my Mother company while me and my friend go on an adventure of sorts?" he asked, and the short man frowned as he folded his arms. "An adventure? Of what sort?" he asked, and Ragnarok frowned as an angered look came over his face. "I know not, but I do know that this journey will include the enactment of my vengeance against the gods. None shall survive my wrath. Not Vidarr, not Thor and not Odin." he said, and Gharzvorgr looked him in the eyes, able to see his fury and his conviction, exhaling slightly through his small nose as he nodded in compliance. Ragnarok thanked him, turning to Floob and telling him to gather supplies, the man nodding clearly before rushing off to comply.

Ragnarok turned to his Mother, who laid unconscious on a cot in Floob's house, Ragnarok briefly wondering exactly what Floob had done with that cot, his thoughts being replaced by compounding emotion as Ragnarok smiled before turning and exiting the cave. He sighed as he felt the crisp afternoon air on his skin, Ragnarok heading through the now empty village as he glanced to the temple at it's center, realizing that this village, the village he grew up in and wished to protect was completely empty because he had killed them all. As he made his way to his Father's great burial mound, he wondered if he regretted the act. Nothing in him was allowing him to feel regret, letting Ragnarok know that, while he might not have wanted to, no part of him regretted the near genocide he just committed against his former village mates.

Ragnarok sighed as he reached his Father's burial mound, placing a hand on it as he closed his eyes. "I understand the knowledge you gave me, and I believe the time has come for me to enact my vengeance upon the gods for all the wrong they have done me. They have taken you from me, and just now, the villagers tried to sacrifice my Mother to Odin. I could not allow them to do this, and so I wiped them all out. All of them. I am sorry if this angers or saddens you, but I did what I felt necessary." he said to the silent mound, a sigh escaping his lips as he bowed his head in respect. "I will end them all Father, this I swear to you. Please, if you still live in any way, watch over my Mother and her guard Gharzvorgr. This is all I would ever request from you." he said, rubbing the mound with a sad hand as he jumped over it and headed out.

Coming upon a nearby village, he frowned as he noticed them in the town square, performing a ritual known as a Blot. He watched them cut the throats of goats and sheep, offering their blood up to the gods as it splattered on a great bonfire. He knew that after the animals had bled their last drop, new animals would be brought in, and then men would douse themselves in the blood of these animals before consuming the burning corpses of the original group of animals, something that Ragnarok was familiar with. He grit his teeth as he grew larger, feeling the transformation overtake him again, this time seeming much more relaxed and natural, almost as if he commanded it this time, the thoughts of the innerworkings of his transformation lost as he entered the village.

And that day, and even into the next, Ragnarok unleashed his fury, his rage, his frustration, his sadness and most of all, his _wrath_ upon the populace. No tribute to the gods was completed that day, for everywhere that a Blot or any other religious ritual was being held, Ragnarok had appeared like a blanket, covering them with a death so decisive that if any of their bloodline lived, they would feel the fear and darkness from this wolfman warpath for millenia. Many villages fell that day, so many so, that if they were instead conquered, Ragnarok would be hailed as a King, the large number of villages that he wiped out not only striking a blow to the populace, but to the economy and also to the pride of many Lords and Dukes who's lands were ravaged. The gods themselves felt this wrathful path of destruction, the number of sacrifices and tributes in their name screeching to a halt as none would risk their entire village for a single ceremony, the wolfman becoming myth very quickly, tales of a wolf headed demon from Hel striking down the innocent and killing the weak soon being sung by bards and minstrels everywhere.

After finally calming down, Ragnarok had made his way home, instructing Floob to meet him in a nearby forest, very close to the area where he had killed Cnut, his thoughts traveling to the boy for a brief moment. He chuckled, a sound that sounded like a hiccup of disgust, the demigod looking at his hands as he shook his head, realizing that Cnut was the reason he had awakened this great power, a power that he swore he would use to smite each and every god he could, the boy having no plans on sparing a single god, goddess or even child of the gods as he clenched his fists, exhaling as he glanced to the sun.

Floob was very happy and overjoyed. He had not gone on many adventures in his life, so the chance to go exploring the world, especially with someone who liked him, his friend Ragnarok, was almost euphoric to the broad man. He grabbed the large axe he had finally finished forging, a huge smile on his face as he examined it, his simple mindset making him believe that it was the mightiest axe in all of the Nine Worlds, a declaration that couldn't honestly be refuted. The axe took the shape of an executioner's axe, the flat top being broad and heavy enough to jab out almost like a hammer, something Floob added to remind the wielder of the man who forged it. The blade, which was made completely out of the unusual red mineral, was forged perfectly with years of practice, effort, research and skill along with blood, sweat, a lot of sweat, and tears at the happiness he felt when he finally finished the greatest axehead in all of possible existence from the beginning of the first reality to the end of the last.

Floob blinked as his train of thought returned, smiling happily at the bearded, curved blade that nigh on curved back to the handle, which was, unknowingly to Floob, made from the very ash of Yggdrasil, making the belief that the axe was the mightiest axe possible much more plausible. Floob smiled at the curve, which was almost like a long hook, which would allow for the wielder to hook people and bring them close or even tear off hooked body parts, something that Floob put very much practice and thought into the function of, touching the sharp blade, tears almost forming in his eyes at how beautiful his creation was, the sharp blade able to cut without contact, the sheer sharpness of this great blade likely able to slice flesh via the kinetic energy and torque it moved with, something Floob was really, really looking forward to seeing.

Whispering sweet nothings to the axe like a child, he wrapped it in an intricate, gnome made leather sheath and slung it over his shoulder, the axe resting on his back as he grabbed the rest of his supplies and smiled. He walked out of his cave after bidding farewell to Gharzvorgr, who was tending to Ragnarok's Mother, the man happy to see the sunlight as he looked to the forest where Ragnarok wanted to meet him. Unknowingly, he was walking into a great storm, which would change the scope of the very world.

 _Finished. Hope you enjoyed this one, as the detail I put into it was surprising to me lol, especially since I took a lot of time writing it ahaa. The next chapter, if you remember the original version of the fic, is essentially the most important, and, in some cases, the most hilarious, so I do hope that you'll wait for chapters 7,8, and 9 before Chapter 10 comes out alone and Chapter 11 starts up the 'fresh' content, lol. Thanks for everything, and make sure to keep an eye on my profile or contact me via the ways listed on my profile incase it seems like it's taking too long for me to push out the next chapter. I apprecilove you, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF Inc. Word Count: 4,326 Word Count without Author's Notes: 4,100_


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